


The first time he spoke was his last

by lettalady



Series: Blips and Blurbs [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Presumed character death, possible but unconfirmed character death, post apocalyptic survival instincts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Series: Blips and Blurbs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925065
Kudos: 1





	The first time he spoke was his last

**T** he first time he spoke was his last. At least, it was the first time he spoke in my presence - and I’m utterly convinced he is now dead.

In the few minutes I knew him he conveyed so much more than words could ever capture.

I stumbled into his makeshift camp while seeking shelter. I was frozen with fear - encountering others was a dangerous thing these days. He had studied me, my layers of protective clothing, the utility belt and supply bag slung over my shoulder in haste rather than properly secured. 

It started with a nodded greeting. The gentle nod that said:

_Hello. This is a safe place. You are welcome here._

I didn’t have much to offer in exchange for his hospitality. Nearly everything in my pack was either necessity or utterly useless to him. I briefly take inventory of his encampment, much of what I carried on my back he had in triplicate. 

Who was this man?

The next series of motions prompted me to move from the spot where I had anchored my feet.

_Sit. Rest. There’s plenty of food. I will keep watch._

He had rested his hand on the blade sheathed at his hip. I had no doubt he knew how to wield such a thing with deadly precision. Blades were effective, but messy, and required close proximity. No potential for something to jam or otherwise malfunction. You just needed to maintain the edge.

As far as I can remember I said something like: “Thank you. You have a nice setup here. I wouldn’t have found it if I hadn’t tripped over the…" 

He had looked perplexed by my words causing me to abandon my sentence. How long had it been since he heard someone speak? I had taken to talking to myself - maybe that’s why I had so much trouble on the road - always attracting attention that way. 

His puzzlement had quickly morphed back to the warmth that had initially greeted me. I’d picked up the stream of words again nearly immediately. It was nice to have someone other than myself replying, even if it was just in gestures.

I found myself wondering if he could even remember how to talk. 

And then he had fallen still. I knew from his expression what was happening. My chatter, or my clumsy path through the area, had lead others to us. I had betrayed his location, his home, his safe haven. 

What could I do to make amends? I would run… crash through the underbrush making as much noise as I could to lead them away from this place - away from this man that had showed me kindness.

My specialty - cause a scene. 

Before I could collect my things he had jumped up, pointed behind him and spoken. 

"GO.”

One word. One gruff word was all I would ever get. I wanted to stay and fight alongside him but he shoved me beyond the safety of the nook and closed the passage behind me. 

Hearing the struggle that followed, the howls from the others - and grunts of attacks I assigned to him - the gore that had to have been happening while I could do nothing but listen… that will never leave me.


End file.
